


you're the stars in my eyes

by karennninas



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Male-Female Friendship, enjoy jim having a giant resigned crush on uhura like a NERD, there isnt much spuhura in this bc im bad @ writing spock but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-08-07 21:08:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7729810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karennninas/pseuds/karennninas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>she already knows he loves her. she just asks him for kicks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you're the stars in my eyes

**Author's Note:**

> this!!!! would have more spuhura in it but i need 2 Work on my characterisation. so. 
> 
> i rly like uhura and jim's friendship?? so i wrote this 
> 
> if u comment theres a 99% chance id die for u

_ ‘Jim, do you love me?” _

**

 

She’s the first person he sees when he walks into the mandatory first-year bio course classroom. He hasn’t even thought about  _ her _ , nameless Uhura, since he’d seen her on the shuttle in Iowa. 

 

He wonders if she noticed when he sat behind her. He wonders, doesn’t worry about how much of his mind he’s devoting to thinking about the pretty girl in front of him, rather than to the professor explaining the effects of space on the human nervous system. He doesn’t have to wonder for long.

 

“Pay attention to the  _ lesson _ instead of  _ me _ , Kirk,” Uhura hisses as the lecturer pauses to take a breath. She glances back at him to glare. She has pretty eyes. 

 

**

 

_ “Jim, do you love me?”  _

 

_ “Course I do, Uhura. You’re my best friend.”  _

 

**

 

She knocks back her fourth shot and feels her head buzzing. It isn’t warm and pleasant, like normal; it’s sharp and confusing. She feels worse than she did when she’d trudged into the bar with no other thought than to _forget,_ because what’s the goddamn point in anything anymore if she’s failed the _one_ class she _needs_ to pass for her second year (nevermind that she only didn’t study because her auntie died, that she had to miss the funeral to take her bio final, that she felt so bad about that that she forgot _Advanced Interstellar Political Sciences_ even existed). 

 

What’s the point in protecting her dignity if she has none? 

She registers that Jim’s beside her about three minutes after he actually sits down, and she’s too far-gone to wonder why he hasn’t tried to hit on her yet. Her head feels lighter, and the buzzing subsides. Only a cold, empty pain remains at the back of her brain, sitting on her thoughts and seeping  _ shame _ into every move she makes. It’s probably her motivation for what happens next. 

 

Jim-- stuttering, confused Jim-- stops her when she’s about three inches from his face and he can actually  _ taste _ the vodka on her breath. His hand his on her arm and he’s nearly falling off of his seat in surprise. 

 

She groans, pulling her head back. “This is what you  _ want _ , right? It’s what you’ve been asking for ever since we goddamn  _ met _ , and I’m trying to give it to you.” She launches herself at him again, this time succeeding in catching him in a kiss for a second. She waits, with her lips open and pressed to his, for him to let go of the courtesies and take  _ control _ , to kiss her  _ back _ and take her  _ home _ . That’s what he wants-- she figures, it could be what  _ she  _ wants, too-- and she doesn’t see a point in denying him it anymore. 

 

But, he breaks away almost immediately. He grips her shoulders and stares at her with his eyebrows all furrowed. He’s blurry. 

 

She wakes up, and it’s still dark out. She’s lying on something hard-- cement? Her head is resting on something warm and soft, with fabric-- a leg? Her neck is cramping and her back is straining, but strangely enough, she feels  _ comfortable _ . 

 

Her eyes creak open and she sees the stars. And Jim Kirk’s chin. He’s leaning against a wall, and he hasn’t noticed that she’s awake yet. Her head is on his lap, she deduces, and they’re outside her dorm building because he doesn’t have a key. 

 

Her clothes are intact. Her underwear is still on; nothing aches in the way that it would after drunken sex. Her mouth tastes like nothing but old vodka. 

 

“Kirk?” Her voice is a warm whisper. “The key is in my left pocket. You could--” She doesn’t have the energy to hold herself up. “You can carry me to my dorm room on the third floor, number 36.” 

 

“You wanna know what time it is?” He asks conversationally, pretending, for her own good, that he hadn’t heard all the things she’d said to him in her half-unconscious haze (ranging from  _ here I was, thinking you wanted to fuck me _ , to  _ god, they think I don’t care she died, I do care, Jim, I care so much-- _ ). “Left pocket?”

 

“Left pocket,” she confirms, right before saying, “No. I’ve just been out a few hours?” 

 

He hesitates. She doesn’t notice. “Yeah. Completely out since the bar, I’m afraid.” 

 

He carries her to her room and sets her on her own bed with more care than she thought he was capable of expressing. “I’ll--” 

 

“ _ Uhura _ . Tomorrow, you’ll see me in the library or at a coffee stand or somewhere else, and I’ll pretend this never happened. It’s fine.” He looks genuine. 

 

“Thank you, Kirk.”

 

**

 

_ “Jim, do you love me?” _

 

_ “Course I love you, Uhura. You’re my best friend.”  _

 

_ “That’s not what I meant.”  _

 

**

 

She’s already sitting at the bar when he gets there. It’s completely dark; she likes to sit in the starlight when she can. She slides him a glass with a pink liquid inside when he sits next to her. 

 

“I made it. S’my mom’s birthday today.” She’s staring out the giant window, watching the bright lights whiz by. “How was chess with Spock?”

 

Jim sips the pink drink-- it’s sweet, tastes mostly like sugar-water-- and ignores her question about chess. “You call her today?” He’s talking about her mom. 

 

“She died a couple’a months ago, Jim.” Uhura looks at him. “Thanks for reminding me.” She deadpans it; she isn’t really mad. “You like your drink?” Her eyes, however glazed they might’ve been a moment ago, are clear and focused. 

 

“It’s good. Kinda sweet for my taste, but… chess with Spock was good. He won. No surprise, there. He knows it’s your mom’s birthday?”

 

Uhura smiles and looks down at the drink in her hand-- violet, with a grape on a toothpick sticking out. “He knows. Gave me an extra hour off, so I could come and stare out a window in mourning.” She can feel Jim watching her with nothing but concern in his head. “The point is that I’m okay, Jim. Not  _ completely _ okay, but enough. You got any of those old chocolates from last year in your quarters?” 

 

She watched him light up with an ability to help. “Yeah, in my closet. After you, Lieutenant. The bridge’ll be empty by now, if you wanna wait there while I get’em.” He looked at her with a smile ghosting his face and his arm against the doorframe. 

 

“Sounds good.” 

 

**

 

_ “Jim, do you love me?” _

 

_ “Course I do, Uhura. You’re my best friend.” _

 

_ “That’s not what I meant.” _

 

_ “Well, it’s what  _ I  _ meant, because if I meant anything else, it wouldn’t be fair to you and your long-term committed relationship in which you are happy and completely in love. If I were, in theory, to have a crush on you, it wouldn’t matter. I’d never hurt either of you like that.” _

 

**

 

She’s been waiting for him to wake up for eight days. She’s been praying he doesn’t die ( _ again _ ) for eight days. She’s been watching his body react to his murderer’s blood for eight days. 

 

(Because that’s what he was:  _ murdered _ . Murder by association. He only had to fix the warp core because the ship was dying, and the ship was only dying because  _ he _ hit it--)

 

She’s barely spoken to Spock for eight days. It’s almost like she’s afraid to. She, and everyone else who saw him ( _ heard  _ him) fall apart. Bones, Scott, half the goddamn bridge. Scotty’d seen him cry.  _ Everyone _ had heard him scream. (Everyone except Jim). And now he’s quiet. He tells her goodnight and good morning and asks her if she needs coffee or breakfast. He kisses her cheek when they part ways in the morning, and he lets her kiss his lips when they meet again in the evening. He’s just quiet. 

 

And normally, she’d talk to Jim about it. She’d tell him how she knows that it’s a personal matter, but she doesn’t have any other friends who are close to Spock, and she needs to talk. He’d give her some kind of sweet, vague advice, and she’d sit at the foot of his bed and help him log the day. She can’t do that if he’s comatose. 

 

Actually, she can. And she does. She talks to him every day. Talks about anything. She tells him about Spock. She tells him about how she saw Chekov while getting lunch and he looks distraught, so he’d better wake up. Tells him about how her heart is hurting,  _ physically  _ hurting, so it’d be nice if he acknowledged her presence. When she runs out of things to say, she narrates every action in the room. She describes the IV in detail, talks about the color of the sky and how it’s changing by the minute. She tells him that McCoy just walked in and he looks so tired, so Jim, you’d better hurry. 

 

It’s been eight days, and she won’t let herself break. 

 

**

 

_ “Jim, do you love me?” _

 

_ “Course I do, Uhura. You’re my best friend.” _

 

_ “That’s not what I meant.” _

 

_ “Well, it’s what  _ I  _ meant. Because, if I meant anything else, it wouldn’t be fair to you and your long-term committed relationship-- in which you are happy and completely in love. If I were, in theory, to have a crush on you, it wouldn’t matter. I’d never hurt either of you like that.” _

 

_ “So, you do?” _

 

**

 

“I bet Spock’ll cry at your wedding.” 

 

“Good  _ god _ , Jim, I’ll pay you to stop talking right now.” 

 

“He’ll see you in that dress, walking toward him with the stars in your eyes--  _ ow! _ ”

 

“Stop talking about me and Spock getting married; we haven’t even been  _ dating _ that long--” The pillow she’d hurled at Jim’s head hits her square in the face. 

 

“You call four years  _ not long _ ?” He immediately takes the pillow back from her and wedges it between the wall and his neck. 

 

They’re sitting on the floor of the bridge with eight pillows, two blankets, one sheet (to be the roof), and a box of new chocolates. In other words, it’s Nyota’s mother’s birthday. 

 

“I’ll marry Spock when I marry Spock, and not a  _ minute _ sooner,” she says strictly, concealing her grin by eating a candy. 

 

Jim’s eyes light up. “So you’re gonna marry Spock?”

 

“I swear, I’ll take down the fort, Kirk,” Uhura says, but she’s giggling as she says it. “I can’t imagine myself with anyone but him.” She lies down, her head on his lap and her shoulder pointing into the floor. It’s incredibly uncomfortable, but oddly comforting. “You’ll be my best man, right?” 

 

“I can’t believe you even had to  _ ask _ , Uhura,” he said, feigning betrayal. “Although-- do Vulcan weddings even  _ have _ best men?”

 

She feels his fingers twirling in her ponytail and forgets the pain in her shoulder. “I dunno. I’d think, given that he’s half-human and  _ marrying  _ a human, we’d at least use  _ some _ human customs. Including the dress and the best men and everything.” She swings herself back up to eye-level with him. “Speaking of my boyfriend, though, I should be going to bed now. It’s late as hell, and I’m guessing my mother’s birthday has already passed.” She gives him an impromptu kiss on the cheek and crawls out of the fort. “You gonna clean this up by yourself?” 

 

“Nah; it’ll be a fun surprise for Chekov to deal with when he gets here first thing tomorrow morning,” he calls after her. 

 

**

 

_ “Jim, do you love me?” _

 

_ “Course I do, Uhura. You’re my best friend.” _

 

_ “That’s not what I meant.” _

 

_ “Well, it’s what  _ I  _ meant. Because, if I meant anything else, it wouldn’t be fair to you and your long-term committed relationship-- in which you are happy and completely in love. If I were, in theory, to have a crush on you, it wouldn’t matter. I’d never hurt either of you like that.” _

 

_ “So, you do?” _

 

_ “That’s irrelevant, Lieutenant.” _

 

_ “You’re a good man, Kirk. You deserve someone just as good-- who isn’t already dating someone.”  _

 

_ “Course, Lieutenant.”  _

 

_ “Jim?” _

 

_ “Yeah?” _

 

_ “You can call me by my first name, if you want.”  _


End file.
